Murder For The Mundane
by Blanqueraq
Summary: Two assassins argue over target rights. Romance ensues. Minor crack. Kakashi/Iruka


_Murder For The Mundane_ (1926)

Iruka had the guy pinned to the floor with a semi-automatic shoved under the base of his skull, right above the third vertebrae, when it became apparent they were not alone in the room. The soft cascade of fresh air from the open window and noticeable pad of unnoticeable footsteps was all Iruka needed to prove this fact, but by then he was already half way across the room, target squawking for breath under his boot.

Tilting his head, he scowled at the interloper, fingers trigger ready on the gun. "What the fuck are you doing here? This is my hit, asshole."

The stranger frowned, an amused look crossing his face. His mostly covered face. "I don't see your name written anywhere," the man's one visible eye curved in the suggestion of a smile as he leaned forward, "or am I not looking hard enough?"

With a caustic stare, Iruka readjusted his foot on the target's back, ignoring the man's whimpers of pain. It appeared the company had fucked up again and of course it was the grunts who had to deal with the consequences. Honestly, Iruka didn't feel like blasting a fellow assassin today; he just wanted to do his job, collect his money and go home to his DVR.

He had like five episodes of House backed up on the recorder.

"I've got clearance off the red tail syndicate. Who are you working for? Wall mart?" Iruka sneered, pausing a second to scratch his belly with the muzzle of his gun, and stomping down hard on the target who refused-to-stay-still…!

The stranger snorted and promptly flipped him off, before tugging idly at the coil of wire twined around his opposite wrist. Iruka rolled his eyes at that one; he'd bumped into a real connoisseur of verbal repartee - and one of those types who thought he was some BFD because he killed old school.

"Seriously, garroting?" With a condescending chuckle, Iruka leaned down and pressed his gun against the target's head. He didn't feel like waiting around anymore. "Didn't that go out with the guillotine? Che, you're an insult to modern man." Iruka didn't fail to notice the interloper's sudden icy silence or the fact he'd slid a six inch hunting knife from the small of his back, "We carved spear heads from bones and injected babies with deadly viruses just to advance ourselves, and you take out your targets with a fucking piano wire."

Iruka shook his head and began inching back on the trigger. "Pu-thetic." He sing-songed, already aware of what would happen next.

The knife sunk into the wall right where Iruka's head used to be. In his sudden agile dodge, he'd made sure to knock the target out cold against the floor, not wanting to deal with his mewling if things got a little uglier than anticipated.

"I'll have you know," the stranger shook a finger at him mockingly, seating himself at the edge of the target's heavy oak desk, "I work for a very nice old family, who wanted their political rival put down this way. And you understand how it works," he continued in a surprisingly smooth tone, "They pay for it, I'll do the deed anyway they like."

Iruka had seated himself comfortably on an ugly floral patterned couch and was now rolling his eyes, flushing slightly at the sleazy way the other man had delivered the last line. He hated exchanging quips and bullets, it was always such a hassle.

"I'm sure you'd bend over backwards," Iruka muttered, not much interested in whether or not the other man had caught that little gem. He probably did, what with their excellent assassin hearing and all.

"Back flips and everything," the man responded brightly, now rubbing tenderly at the barrel of his nine millimeter. Iruka hadn't even noticed him whip that one out and found his lips twitching a little as he tapped a finger against the flowery arm rest.

He still wanted home to Hugh Laurie that perversely attractive son of a bitch, and the current problem wasn't resolving itself fast enough.

Tugging on a piece of brown hair that had escaped his pony tail, Iruka ran his tongue across his teeth. "Fight to the death?"

The stranger tapped his chin with the gun, apparently thinking about it. "Maa. My niece's birthday party is this afternoon. I'd rather not show up just having killed someone with my bare hands."

Iruka rolled his eyes and snorted. "Arrogant..!" He sang again, somehow finding the man's attitude attractive despite all that. He always did have a thing for incorrigible fucks.

The stranger smiled winningly through his mask and cupped his gun in both hands and let it hang between his thighs. Iruka shifted and crossed his legs, trying to come up with something that would solve their situation happily - or at least satisfactorily for him.

He scratched at the old scar stretched across his nose. "Hm, how 'bout rock, paper, scissors?"

It seemed Iruka hit upon a pretty good solution since the other man didn't dismiss it outright or come up with some stupid excuse. "Just one for it all, or best two out of three?"

Smiling a little now, Iruka couldn't help the rumble of laughter that escaped him. He didn't feel like ending this interlude too quickly all of a sudden. Even Dr. House was starting to take second banana to this guy.

Speaking of which… "What's your name?" Iruka asked with a genuine smile, The Smile he was pleased to say that made everyone sit up and look, if only for a second. He watched in silent enjoyment as the man's eye widened and he nervously worked his gun between his hands.

"Well, that's-"

"Mine's Iruka."

The man appeared to deflate at this and Iruka had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing again. The stranger shimmied back a bit further on the desk and began idly tapping the butt of his gun against the wood.

"I suppose," he drawled, though Iruka could see right through that, "it's Kakashi."

"Hm," Iruka considered and deeming it satisfactory, slipped his semi-automatic back into the holster under his arm. "Best two out of three, I think."

The man blinked at him, half amused, half exasperated, before shoving his own weapon back into the holster hanging low off his hip.

After the resituate game that Iruka had a feeling Kakashi let him win on purpose - and the subsequent bullet he'd put through the target's head - Iruka found himself watching the other man's very tight back side as they scaled the building Mr. T.R sells-oil-and-shit had hauled up. To be honest, Iruka didn't feel much like going home to a cold bowl of Wheaties and his marathon of House episodes.

"H-hey Kakashi!" Just as the other man was about to slip his bike helmet on, Iruka had managed to dredge up enough courage from where his hand was keying the lock on his very unassuming Ford Taurus. Dirt brown, if anyone cared.

The man, in head to toe black with a heavy - also black - biker's jacket wrapped around his broad shoulders, turned partially in his seat and lifted an eyebrow. His helmet still hung from his fingertips.

"Yes..?" Kakashi drew out curiously, when nothing else was forthcoming.

Iruka had a feeling this looked much easier on TV than it actually was since his stomach felt about ready to upend itself. He never asked anyone on a date - they always asked _him _out.

It would be a learning experience. He looked up from the pavement and the key still clutched in his hand, focusing on the gray eye staring at him with…amusement?

Iruka glared, scowling. "You wanna get dinner, or something?"

Kakashi stared back at him for a long time, long enough that Iruka felt distinctly like he'd made a huge mistake. Finally, "I'm straight. Sorry."

Choking on his spit, Iruka turned around and repeatedly told himself how dumb it would look for a man who made his living at the business end of a gun to shoot himself out of sheer embarrassment. He'd just go home and tell Hugh Laurie all about it - and his pet gold fish, Rankor.

When a hand grabbed lightly at his arm, Iruka was going to haul the son of a bitch over his shoulder and slam him into the cement, but then his good sense kicked in and he remembered they were still fleeing the scene of a crime.

Slowly, he turned around, his face totally impassive. Five minutes wouldn't kill anyone.

Kakashi looked at him in a mix of discomfort and anxiety, eye curving just the slightest. "I was kidding. I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd take it seriously. I mean letting you win, didn't that just give off the hugest gay vibe? I thought you were going to joke back or something…"

With every word Iruka had gotten progressively angrier until he'd been forced to hurry the last few steps to his car, rip open the door and slam it behind him. He shoved the keys into the ignition and thought seriously on running Kakashi's bike over - while the dip shit was on it.

The guy was retarded. He had Aspergers or something and Iruka was not up for dealing with that.

"Shit! Maa, Iruka, it was just a joke. I'm gay, I swear! The fucking gayest!"

Iruka turned red as a couple business men on the sidewalk turned to stare at them, and a woman walking with her child pressed the kid into her side and covered his ears. Swearing, he roughly rolled down the window and punched Kakashi square in the gut, since the guy was practically attached to his car at the moment.

Kakashi clutched at the hurt for about two point five seconds before he was down and sticking his head through the window.

"I'd really love to take you to dinner. Or you could take me to dinner! I don't care, just as long as I get a chance to do you!" Iruka couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped him as he watched, in morbid fascination, the man dig himself into a hole he was not getting out of.

Kakashi gripped at the car door, looking like he wanted to slap himself of his sheer stupidity. "That's not what I meant. I mean, if it comes to that, I'd be more than happy and willing - not that you're a slut or anything. Or even if you were, I wouldn't hold it against you! I'd be glad to help! God, you have a great ass." With a groan he cracked his forehead against the top of the car window. "Please tell me to shut up."

Iruka wasn't able to do a blessed thing as he was still laughing so hard he was afraid he'd wet his pants a little. Getting a breath in, he managed to choke, "I forgive you. Meet me at that coffee shop on Lawndale's and maybe we can work out the whole doing me thing."

Tears streaming down his face from laughing, Iruka started his car and shifted into drive. He had another hilarious moment when Kakashi, eye curving stupidly had to jump out of the way of his screeching tires. Sure, it was a shitty little Ford Taurus but Iruka kept it well maintained.

He wiggled his fingers sweetly goodbye, before slamming down like a maniac on the accelerator.

The sound of police sirens were already squealing in the distance.

**Love**

A/N - Something I had laying around on my computer while I convalesce and continue tweaking the second chapter of my other story. I slapped on the ending, but it made me laugh so hard I didn't find much of a problem with it.

I like the idea of awkward killers - you know, the modern version of bad guys being just people with average problems who come into what they do out of necessity or misfortune. Like Sunshine Cleaners. I love Hugh Laurie by the way, if you haven't noticed. I've been watching House incessantly as I try to get better.

Review, if you laughed a little. Or a lot. I was considering a companion piece, where they have that coffee chat and see what strange things come of it. Eh.


End file.
